


Let The Hours Pass

by INeverHadMyInternetPhase



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Airports, Fluff, M/M, Reality, Sleepy Cuddles, Tiny bit of fighting, but it's mostly just bickering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 11:32:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeverHadMyInternetPhase/pseuds/INeverHadMyInternetPhase
Summary: Dan and Phil missed their flight on the way to vidcon, so this is them grumbling about it at the airport.





	Let The Hours Pass

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted on tumblr, so I wrote this ^_^

They were disorientated, grumpy, and more than a little bit exhausted by the time they finally found somewhere to camp.

The nightmare of a journey had passed in something like a dream. In fact, Dan wasn’t even sure it had really happened at all. In a parallel universe, they were probably already safely arrived at Vidcon, happily in America, living in a different timezone (this time because they were _supposed_ to be, Phil) and preparing for their act on stage.

They weren’t supposed to still be in an airport.

But time and events were against them, and through a series of minor disasters they were now trapped in an unfamiliar building, locked away in the business class lounge with very little chance of getting out of it for the foreseeable future.

A flight in the middle of the night had seemed like the best option, but now, sitting in an uncomfortable seat across from Phil with his head slowly starting to ache, Dan was starting to regret it.

The hours passed sluggishly, slowly, but like they were happening to someone else. Dan would much rather be in that parallel world, where he was successful and shining and everyone loved his content all the time and there was no bone-crushing pressure to be constantly perfect. He was feeling it more right now, the pressure, when he was trapped somewhere he hated and with the prospect of disappointing everyone at vidcon hanging right over his head.

Never mind the fact that Phil was still refusing to talk to him.

Well, no, they were _talking_ , but it never went past. “This is all your fault, Dan, you can’t complain about it now.” Which, really, Dan thought was very unfair. So he’d temporarily misplaced his passport, fine, he hadn’t _thought they were living in a different timezone._ And Phil was always in charge of booking the taxis. He should have known better.

Really, it was all Phil’s fault they were stuck in this situation at all.

Dan crossed his arms glumly and stared at the tiled ground beneath his feet. The business class lounge was quieter than most of the airport, but it was still far from empty and far from comfortable. The back of his head was itching the way it did sometimes when they were out in public and he had to worry that someone would spy them, and some creepshot would later appear in some dark corner of the internet.

And he couldn’t even reach out to Phil the way he normally would, because Phil was staring grumpily at the floor too. Phil’s forehead was creased, that little furrow deep in his brows showing his stubbornness and unhappiness with the situation. It made Dan’s stomach twist. He hated being miserable, but more than that, he hated Phil being miserable.

That was enough to make Dan relent a little. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, towards Phil in their uncomfortable seats. “Well. At least we got on another flight.”

Phil only grunted in reply, but he did look up at Dan and met his eyes for the first time in a while. That was progress.

Dan tried for a smile. “Might even still make our stage slot.”

“Well, not because of _you_ ,” Phil muttered.

Dan winced. That was hardly fair. Phil had been the one to sit down stubbornly in the middle of the gate refusing to move until the air stewardess let them on the flight. It had taken a lot of fast talking on Dan’s part to convince her to let them on the next flight, and then even more fast talking to get Phil to move at all. Then they’d found their way here, and Phil sat opposite him from then on grumpily refusing to speak to him.

Dan really thought this was quite unfair.

Phil seemed to take note of Dan’s expression, because his eyes softened a little. “I mean, you have to admit, Dan, losing your passport was pretty ridiculous.”

Dan grimaced. “I didn’t book us a taxi in _literally the wrong timezone_ , Phil.”

“That wouldn’t even have mattered if we hadn’t been delayed by you!” Phil slid down in his seat, almost pouting. He looked ridiculous. “Throwing your entire suitcase out onto the street, I don’t know what happened to you. Wait, yes I do, because something _always_ goes wrong when you travel.”

Dan glared at him. “Not it doesn’t.”

“Last summer you had me pouring every eye product available onto your face,” Phil pointed out, still grouchy. “And that was because you take so long. Never mind getting deported to the Bahamas.”

“Now wait, wait, wait,” Dan lifted a finger, “That one was _not_ my fault, the lady clearly had it in for me.”

Phil huffed a sigh and then slid back into silence. Dan thought they had pretty good communication most of the time, but when they were fighting or moody or tired, then one or the other would usually shut down. This time, it seemed to be Phil, and he was so stubborn that Dan could see this one stretching on for hours.

Dan sighed too, then moved one foot forward to hook around Phil’s ankle. At least if they were touching, things couldn’t be too bad.

A few minutes passed.

“Emptying your boxers onto the street,” Phil muttered eventually, and the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

Dan made a face back at him, but he couldn’t even bring himself to be too mad. He was _exhausted_ , and the expression on Phil’s face was the closest thing to a smile he’d seen since the mad rush to the airport earlier.

“Yes, well,” Dan muttered instead, kicking at Phil’s leg. “You’d have done the same if you lost your passport, too.”

“I wouldn’t lose my passport,” Phil reminded him, but his lips were still twitching. “I wonder what the taxi driver thought of your underwear choices.”

“Shut _up_.” Dan buried his face in his hands, groaning, glad their conversation was quiet enough that none of the other few passengers in the lounge could hear them.

Phil chuckled in response. That was good. That was the happiest he’d sounded in ages.

Dan smiled gratefully at him, glad that the worst of their fight was behind them. Dan was _so tired_ , he could feel it creeping around the edges of his skull, weighing down the corners of his eyelids and making his limbs heavy and sluggish. He folded himself up as small as he could into the chair, but it wasn’t exactly sleeping material. Plus, he missed his Phil-pillow.

It seemed, in a wonderful form of shared telepathy, that Phil was on the same page as him, because his expression softened. “Want to find somewhere more comfy?”

“ _Please_ ,” Dan all but begged, and dragged himself up to his feet.

The airport was busy, but eerily quiet so late into the night. There were still people, businessmen or tired families or backpackers milling around, but everything took place in hushed whispers, the lights too bright for the atmosphere. It sent chills down Dan’s spine.

They found a quiet corner against a wall, unfortunately near the toilets but it was one of the few places where not many people were loitering. In fact, they managed to find a little corner by one of the emergency exits where there was no foot traffic, and they were free to curl up together in relative safety.

Also, Dan thought that if any of their audience members were forced to be awake at this hour in the night, it was fair enough for them to catch a creepshot in reward.

He shuffled in as close to Phil as he could get, both their legs stretched out across the tiled floor, their hands resting near each other, not quite intertwined. Phil had taken to pulling gently at the sleeves of Dan’s long jumper, shaking his head a little. “I don’t know how you manage to find baggy clothes.”

“Lots of internet searching,” Dan answered through a yawn, “After you’re asleep and I’m bored.”

Phil’s lips twitched. “I’d better work on staying awake then, stop any more of your crazy fashion choices.”

“They are not _crazy_.”

“The rest of the world begs to differ, Dan.”

“Then the rest of the world can f - fuck off.” Dan was overtaken by another yawn, stretching his arms out in front of him, feeling the satisfactory click of his back. They’d been sitting down for hours and his body needed to stretch, but he couldn’t find the energy to bother standing back up again.

Phil glanced around, a lot more awake than Dan was. “It’s almost cool, anyway, being stuck here, isn’t it?”

Dan groaned. “In what way is it _cool_ to be stuck in a building full of people for many hours?”

Phil nudged him in the side. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Departed about five hours ago along with my sense of decorum and hope.” Dan slid further down the wall, throwing his legs over Phil’s. No one was in their little corner, he figured he was allowed to be clingy.

Phil’s response was a low chuckle and another gentle tug on Dan’s sleeve. Then he wound an arm around Dan’s shoulder and drew him closer. “You’re getting old.”

“Least I’m still in my twenties.” Dan yawned again, nestling happily into his new place pressed against Phil’s side. Everything somehow felt more manageable when he had Phil’s warm comforting presence physically touching him, making him more real. Sometimes, Dan still wondered if he’d just dreamed Phil up, but one quick touch always reminded him how real this was. It was a desired source of comfort when they were in public spaces, but the most they could normally manage was a pat on the back or a grip of the elbow. This was better.

Dan’s eyes were closing.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Phil warned him quietly, but his tone was fond. His hand was rubbing a soothing pattern over Dan’s back, up-and-down, up-and-down. It wasn’t really helping with the whole wakefulness thing.

“’Won’t,” Dan mumbled in response, and then proceeded to rest his head on Phil’s chest and do exactly that.

Phil rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move. Dan was tired, he could see that in the tense lines of his body, the way his curls fell into his eyes but he didn’t bother to swipe them away like normal, tucking them back into place. Still a little self-conscious, even though everyone loved them. Phil certainly did. The temptation to poke his finger into the most prominent curl on Dan’s forehead was an urge he had to fight frequently several times a day.

Dan shifted against him, so Phil tightened his grip and leaned his head back against the wall, resigning himself to his fate. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep, and Dan’s weight against his legs was making his right foot fall asleep. But he wasn’t going to be moving now, he knew what Dan got like when he was tired. Better that he stay still and let him rest than deal with an exhausted Dan later.

Phil stared up at the ceiling, and held Dan close, and hoped that the hours would pass quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> Come bug me on tumblr, URL is ineverhadmyinternetphase


End file.
